


A Combination of Frequencies

by soldierwithahalo



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angel Castiel, Dean Plays Guitar, Dean Sings, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Slight Canon Divergence, Slow Build, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldierwithahalo/pseuds/soldierwithahalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dean has a secret, and Castiel knows it."</p><p>With an angel who has no clue what it is to be human, you can bet that he has no clue what music is all about. When he attempts to understand the reasoning behind their love and appreciation for music, well, chaos doesn't necessarily ensue, but a whole lot of confused head-tilts do. There's also an awful lot of careful observation.</p><p>+1 to Castiel because his best friend has a hidden talent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Combination of Frequencies

                Dean has a secret, and Castiel knows it.

                He stumbled upon it when he was searching for the older Winchester in Bobby’s house one evening. There was a case that Sam insisted on checking out and had left the angel to search for his brother as he went off to pack the supplies. He had knocked twice on Dean’s door, and when he heard no reply, he opened the door gently and stepped in. The bed had been empty, the sheets unmade. Books and comic books were strewn about his desk, but that was when Castiel saw it.

                A rather oddly-shaped shadow clipped in between his desk and the wardrobe. The angel blade slipped into his hand instinctively as he walked slowly and quietly towards the shadow. When he could finally make out what it was, Castiel wanted to buckle over and laugh at himself for being so paranoid. Indeed, a relieved smile made its way across his face as he slipped the blade up his sleeve. It was just a harmless inanimate object, incapable of harming anyone. He stared at it a little more, and then tilted his head to the side in confusion, before his brilliant blue eyes widened.

                It was a guitar.

                But why would Dean have –

                His attention was then drawn to the haphazard mess on Dean’s desk. There were thick books about monsters and comic books with colourful pages, yes. But there was also an open notebook with what seemed to be musical notes scribbled on the inside, if Castiel could remember correctly how the swirly squiggly lines could be read and understood by certain humans. Beside those notes were a series of random, capitalized alphabets that he could not understand, but knew was in Dean’s handwriting. Suddenly, it clicked.

                Dean was one of those humans that could read and understand the swirly squiggly lines and translate them into various complicated hand movements on his preferred choice of instrument, producing the strangest combinations of frequencies that were often pleasant.

                Dean could play the guitar. Dean _plays_ the guitar.

                Castiel left his room very quickly after that, closing the door behind him and appearing in the middle of the living room. He stood there very silently, pondering his newfound discovery. At this moment, heavy footsteps sounded from the stairs. He looked up to see that it was Dean hastily slipping on his leather jacket. Dean noticed him instantly.

                “Hey Cas,” Dean smiled, reaching a hand into his pocket to search for the car keys. “It’s nice to see you pop up again.”

                “Hello Dean,” He greeted. “I just came by to check up on you guys, actually. Sam has found a case.”

                “So, you’re not staying for it?”

                The angel thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I suppose I could.” It had been a while since he had went on a hunt with the Winchesters. With Raphael and his followers wanting very much to rip his wings out and stab him ten times over, he barely had time to stop and rest. Well, it wasn’t as if hunting with the boys was a break (goodness, no), but it was a welcome idea that he happily accepted.

                “Okay, great,” Dean nodded. “Where’s Sam, by the way?”

                Castiel pointed in the general direction his younger brother had left. “Um, Dean,” He called out, stopping said man who was halfway out the door. His green eyes met his steady, curious gaze for a moment, and then raised an eyebrow, signalling him to continue. Castiel pondered about the guitar he had found, wondering how he was going to phrase his question. Then again, it probably wasn’t a good idea to bring up something Dean had kept hidden from everyone else. If Castiel didn’t know he had a guitar, he had a rough guess Sam didn’t either. “It’s nothing, never mind.”

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

                Two headless vampires and one salted and burning corpse later, they were on the road back to Bobby’s place, after two days with barely three hours of sleep for the boys. It was exhausting, yes, but Castiel found it to be a great alternative than being in heaven trying desperately to rally supporters and power.

                _“You’re running away from your responsibilities?” Sam asked hours earlier._

_“No, Sam, I’m currently delaying my problems.”_

                He was also far too reluctant to – as Dean says – ‘flap his wings and haul all their asses home’ simply because he feared any possible interception from Raphael’s angels. He kept this from them, though, preferring to say he had spent the last week outrunning some fierce angels, thus weakening his Grace. It wasn’t entirely a lie, of course.

                He was halfway through considering when would be a good time to return to heaven when noise from the driver’s seat got his attention. It was a series of very light tapping noises, beating to a rhythm he couldn’t quite grasp. Castiel straightened in his backseat, peering over Sam’s shoulder to see what the cause of the noise was.

                It was Dean. His fingers were tapping against the steering wheel. Castiel’s eyebrows furrowed as he tilted his head to the side to examine his actions. Dean’s thumb would rise first, and then hit the wheel before his other four fingers would. Sometimes, two of his fingers would come up at the same time, other times, just one. He found the pattern after a while – right thumb, right thumb, left thumb, ring finger and pinkie, index finger, right thumb – and it just kept going. It was strangely calming to watch. It seemed as though every finger needed to be raised at a precise angle, and strike down against the steering wheel at a precise spot to get the desired sound. Every tap seemed calculated. It looked complicated, but Dean, as he usually does with most things, makes it look effortless. “Dean, what are you doing?” Castiel asked.

                The tapping stopped. Dean’s green eyes met Castiel’s pair of blue discs through the rear view mirror. “What am I doing?”

                “You seem to be hitting the steering wheel at an inconsistent rate, although there is a pattern in which you are doing so.”

                “What, you mean this?” Dean asked incredulously, once again resuming the tapping on the steering wheel. Castiel nodded. “Dude, this is not…I don’t even know what you called it. Whatever, man, I’m just drumming to something in my mind.”

                “That is not a drum.”

                “It’s not, but he’s pretending that it is.” Sam explained, his brown eyes twinkling in amusement.

                “Well, what’s on your mind that would cause you to do this?” Castiel pressed on, now very intrigued by this.

                “A song,” Dean answered, exaggerating his tapping actions. Sam seemed to snort at them, but Castiel found it extremely odd, and also slightly endearing. “Actually, it’s this song.” He dug around for a cassette tape before sliding it into the compartment. A million frequencies instantly surged into Castiel’s ears, making his eyes widen. Of course, to the Winchester boys, this must be pleasant – but to an angel’s very much enhanced ears, it was an understatement to call it loud. He spent a few seconds trying to tone down the frequencies in his head, and when he did so, he found that the song was very much different from what he had expected.

               There were, indeed, _many_ drums, and strange sounds that sounded an awful lot like plates clashing together. Then, there were a lot of _crazy_ electrical sounds that Castiel positively could not understand why a combination of these noises was in any way, pleasant. But Sam and Dean seemed to enjoy them, with Sam nodding along to the pattern of the sounds and Dean drumming against the steering wheel louder, mimicking the vocalist’s voice. He remembered, briefly, the guitar he had found in Dean’s room two days ago.

                “Is this music?” He asked.

                “Yeah, Cas, it – don’t tell me you’ve never heard songs?” Dean gasped dramatically.

                “Not really, I don’t think so.”

                “Wow, angel of the Lord, you don’t know a thing about music, do you?” Sam smiled again.

                “Well, Dean was tapping on the wheel earlier –”

                Before he could finish his sentence, however, both Sam and Dean let out laughter that drowned out the ‘music’ and filled the car, leaving a very confused and silent angel staring at them. At that moment, although Castiel knew little to _nothing_ about music, he was certain that the combination of frequencies from Sam’s laughter and Dean’s laughter was the most pleasant thing he had ever been given the privilege to hear. And then he did what every human would do to appreciate such wondrous sounds – lean back against his seat, smile and stay silent.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

                When Castiel next checked in on the boys, it was almost two weeks after the vampire-and-ghost hunt. He had appeared in the kitchen, nearly making Bobby drop his glass of whiskey. The grumpy old man then yelled a string of colourful words at the slightly confused celestial being. He apologized, of course, and that was enough to stop Bobby from further telling him how he “ought to be damn ass thankful for the friggin’ trench coat” or he would have shot him (not that Castiel would have died from a pathetic gunshot wound, obviously, but still). He decided against appearing in Dean’s room, and instead took the human contraption called ‘stairs’.

                He was halfway up the stairs when he heard it.

                There were strange muffled noises coming from upstairs – weird twangs. He has never heard that sound in the house before. Castiel gathered his Grace into his arm, feeling the angel blade begin to materialize in his grip. He walked up the stairs as quietly as possible, but then, all of a sudden –

                “Jesus _Christ_!”

                That was Dean. In less than three seconds, Castiel was up onto the second level and barging into Dean’s room, angel blade drawn and blue eyes wide with alert. He took in his surroundings immediately – the same unmade bed, messy desk, windows open, and no sign of forced entry or struggle, but _oh, Dean’s right there_.

                The older Winchester had jumped right out of his seat, his hands reaching for his gun on the desk. But when he realized that it was just Castiel at the door, his split second of panic turned into full-out confusion. “WHAT THE HELL, CAS?”

                The angel gaped at him and lowered his weapon, slipping it back into his sleeve in the process. “I…uh…”

                “I get the whole appearing and disappearing act that you pull, but this is a whole new level, man!” Dean exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. “You could’ve _knocked_ on the door first, you know!”

                “I…thought you were in danger.” Castiel’s eyes darted towards the floor in embarrassment. However, he noticed the familiar-looking object resting on the chair. Ah, it was the guitar he saw about two weeks ago. He had forgotten all about it (and the fact that Dean owned it, too).

                “Well, thanks for your concern, Cas.” Dean huffed. “But, clearly, I’m okay!”

                “Maybe you shouldn’t blaspheme so loudly next time.” The angel murmured, causing Dean to roll his eyes. “I heard strange sounds on the way up. I believed there was an intruder in the house.”

                At this point, Dean wasn’t sure if he ought to roll his eyes until they went back into his skull or burst out laughing. “No, dude,” He shook his head, and then gestured towards the guitar. “It’s…it’s this thing.” Then, realizing Castiel probably didn’t understand that, he continued, “It’s called a guitar, see?” He reached a finger out and plucked one of the many strings. The strange twang Castiel had heard just moments ago reverberated louder in his enhanced ears.

                “Oh,” He muttered. “I am assuming this makes music, yes?”

                “Hey, you remembered!” Dean smiled, clapping him on the shoulder. “Yes, it does.” He could’ve sworn he heard Castiel say something along the lines of “what a strange contraption”.

                Then, brilliant blue eyes landed on him. “Are you able to make music with the guitar, Dean?” He tilted his head to the side in curiosity.

                Dean stared at him for what was definitely _not_ a normal amount of time before answering. “What? No!” He laughed awkwardly, putting his hands into his pockets. “No, I can’t.”

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

                Dean was lying, obviously. Castiel almost confronted him about it again three days later when he entered his room ( _after_ knocking).

                _“What case are you working on?” He had asked._

_“There’s no case, Cas.” Dean raised an eyebrow. “Why would you say that?”_

_“Oh, well, there’s a lot of paper on your desk and you seem to be making notes. I assumed you were doing research on a case.” He shrugged, pointing at the mess on Dean’s desk. “I assume now that they are not research notes.”_

_“Please, when have I ever been the kind to do research? I leave it to Sammy.”_

_“So, what are they?” Castiel knew the answer to this, of course – during his first encounter with the guitar in Dean’s room. They were probably musical notes, or something along those lines._

_“Nothing,” Dean sighed, shuffling the papers together neatly. “It’s nothing important.”_

_Castiel could’ve sworn that his cheeks were just a tad bit pink._

                The angel had appeared in Dean’s room a few times after that, cloaked and invisible to the human eye. He watched as Dean would turn to the guitar, picking it up and plucking at different strings to produce different sounds.  He often scribbled down on the sheets of paper in between a few minutes. He noticed that his fingers would dance across the long board attached to the big peanut-shaped part (he will never get used to naming the parts of a guitar), pressing different parts in a seemingly random pattern. Sometimes, Dean would pluck just one string, other times, he would bring his hand up and swing it down, allowing his finger to gently graze all the strings at once, producing a mixture of frequencies that Castiel found extremely pleasant.

                It was probably considered ‘creepy’ in human standards, to watch someone from afar (well, technically, he was there in the room, just unseen) for so long, studying their movements. But Castiel was more surprised by the amount of concentration Dean put into playing this strange contraption called a guitar. It was the same amount of concentration he put into a hunt, but channelled into something far less…dangerous. It was an unusual sight, because Castiel had always been so used to Dean being fierce, impulsive, quick and maybe even violent. But here he was, closing his eyes as he played the guitar, caressing each string with as much care as he would give to his 1967 Chevy Impala.

                Castiel was genuinely amazed by how graceful Dean was in playing the guitar. Knowing that Dean Winchester was actually capable of being so gentle and loving towards something put a strange, warm feeling in his chest area. Sure, everyone knows Dean _loves_ the Impala (he would probably marry it if he could), but he talks about that all the time. His ‘baby’ was his pride and glory, and he boasted about it.

                But, _this_?

                Dean _never_ talked about this. He _never_ brought it up in any conversation. And for Castiel to just be standing there silently, admiring the way he could love the guitar, he felt a little intrusive, yes, but he also felt like he had been (unwittingly) let in on this precious secret – this _affair_ between Dean and his guitar.

                So, yes – to see Dean Winchester being so loving towards something he never talked about, it was oddly pleasant to Castiel.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

                He really should tell Dean about the fact that he has been invading his privacy for at least two weeks now, just to watch him play the guitar. In between dodging Raphael’s minions, occasionally helping out with the Winchesters and trying to rally forces in Heaven, he still found time to listen to Dean playing the guitar in his room.

                He was going to tell Dean that today, he really was, but something happened.

                Castiel was halfway up the stairs when he heard the familiar twang of Dean’s guitar. Instantly, he felt warmth bloom within him. He was at the door, ready to knock when he heard something else. It was a voice – deep, rich, velvety – and it was stringing words together in different pitches. It took him a while to realize that it was _Dean_ ’s voice. He paused, eyes wide.

                Dean was singing.

                _“Hey Jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better.”_

                Castiel found himself in Dean’s room just a split second later, cloaked and invisible once again, but he was too stunned by this newfound discovery. Dean was at the desk, playing his guitar and singing at the same time. His eyebrows seemed to furrow a little in concentration, but Castiel could see the way his shoulders looked incredibly relaxed – he was willing to say that this is the calmest state he had ever seen Dean in.

                _“Remember to let her into your heart. Then you can start to make it better.”_

The angel gaped at him, all thoughts of telling Dean about the whole spying-on-him incident thrown out the window in less than a second. He leaned against the wall beside the desk, watching the older Winchester play the guitar and sing at the same time. There was a small nostalgic smile on Dean’s face that made something flutter in Castiel’s chest. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming amount of admiration for this talented human being he had rescued from Hell. Even with everything that had been thrown at him – from the fires of Hell to the devil himself, he hadn’t ceased to amaze Castiel.

                He went back to Heaven that day with Dean’s voice reverberating in his head. It was a pleasant frequency. He felt like he hadn’t understood music until that afternoon.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

                Sam and Dean noticed Castiel acting a little strange. He seemed to be really interested in music – and introducing him to AC/DC was something that happened literally a whole month ago. Upon stumbling across the topic of ‘lullabies’, Sam and Dean mentioned that they were songs typically composed to put people to sleep, usually young children. Dean mentioned that his mother used to sing ‘Hey Jude’ to him when he was a child, and Castiel found the song oddly familiar before he remembered that it was the song Dean was singing the first time he overheard.

                And then, Castiel unabashedly told Dean, “If I was human and I needed a lullaby to put me to sleep, it would be your voice.” Both Winchesters stared at him. Sam started laughing first, but Dean’s green eyes were wide with shock. He merely shrugged. “Why are you laughing? And why are you looking at me like that? I think you have a nice voice, Dean.” Said man just turned pink in an instant.

                “Thanks, Cas, but that’s not what you say to people on a daily basis.” Dean cleared his throat awkwardly.

                “Oh, I see.” He answered sincerely. “Well then, Dean, as someone who has yet to grasp the customs of humans and the meaning of music, I firmly believe that you have a pleasant voice.”

                It didn’t make things better. Sam laughed harder while Dean turned pink and attempted to punch his brother.

                That evening, Castiel stood invisible in the corner of Dean’s room as he walked in. Instead of going straight to the desk, however, he turned to the mirror near his wardrobe and stared at his own reflection for a whole minute. “Okay, Cas says you’ve got a nice voice.” He told himself out loud. And then he shook his head. Castiel was tempted to uncloak himself and reassure Dean that yes, he had a pleasant voice. Dean stared at his reflection a little while more, and that’s when Castiel saw a small smile playing on his lips. He turned to the desk, pulled out his guitar and instantly began playing.

                _“Wise men say only fools rush in, but I can’t help falling in love with you.”_

                Castiel’s entire ability to function came to a startling halt for a second. This was an entirely new side to Dean. Sure, of course, by now, he had heard him sing multiple times, but this melody, this tune and these words – they were so impossibly _gentle_. He has listened to Dean’s collection of cassette tapes, and surely, songs like this were definitely not inside those cassette tapes. No, Dean’s collection involved _Smoke on the Water_ , _Back in Black_ and _Eye of the Tiger_ , not…whatever this was. It stirred up odd feelings – odd, but pleasant, like Dean’s voice. Who knew this man, with all his hidden scars and nightmarish memories, could be this gentle?

                _“Shall I stay? Would it be a sin if I can’t help falling in love with you?”_

                That was it. He was sure, by the end of that song, he would be asking himself the very same question. Because as of right now, Castiel has come to the conclusion – with supporting evidence: his vessel’s increased heart rate, the warmth in his heart, blood rushing to his cheeks – that he has, most probably, fallen in love with Dean Winchester.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

                “Dean,” Castiel called out. “Can I talk to you for a minute, please?”

                Raising an eyebrow in confusion, Dean turned his back on his precious Impala and walked over to the angel who had materialized in the salvage yard. The way Castiel’s eyes seemed to dart around the surroundings told Dean that he was nervous about something. That can mean two things – one, some real shit is about to happen; or two, it’s probably something stupid that Castiel doesn’t understand because he isn’t human. He prays it’s the second option. “What’s up, Cas?” The angel was momentarily caught off guard by the question, but titled his head up either way.

                “It’s the –”

                “No, don’t say ‘sky’, it was – never mind.” Dean sighed in exasperation. “What is it?”

                “I need to tell you something. You might not like it.”

                Dean tensed. He blasphemes in his head. He wanted a goddamn option two. “Is it demons?”

                “What? No.” Castiel muttered. “It’s just that – well, I – uh, you have –” Dean watched in slight amusement at the way he was losing his composure, but nonetheless prepared himself for the inevitable flood of bad news he’s about to hear. Castiel takes in a deep breath for a moment and Dean finds the action oddly human. “I’ve been listening to you sing and play.”

                There was silence. Dean blinked at him once, then twice.

                “ _What_?”

                “I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself, and I shouldn’t have –”

                “For how long, Cas?”

                “Um, for at least a month, I believe.” He saw the colour drain from Dean’s face instantly. This was obviously affecting him a lot more than he had expected. There was a pink tint on his cheeks, though.

                “But, _how_?”

                “I cloak myself when I’m in your room.”

                “Wow, Cas, as if it couldn’t get _any_ creepier!” Dean exclaimed sarcastically. “Dude, I don’t even know what to say. I mean, all the while I thought I was alone but it turns out, I’m _not_! Those…those times were private, man. They were personal and I didn’t think anyone would know.”

                “I mean what I said, though – that you have a nice voice.” Castiel piped up. “I find that you’re very talented, and I don’t know why you would keep this a secret.”

                He didn’t really owe Castiel an explanation, seeing as the dude had just invaded his privacy for over a month. In fact, Dean ought to be fuming right now. But he found himself oddly calm, as if he was okay with the fact that Castiel knew about this. “Music is personal to me, I guess. I don’t know why I keep it a secret. It’s just…for me.” He shrugged, looking into his friend’s blue eyes. “Hopefully, someday you’ll understand.”

                Castiel should have known better that the next day, when he appeared in Dean’s room, cloaked once again, that he would not risk playing the guitar. He found the older Winchester lying on his bed reading a comic book instead. He didn’t miss the way Dean gazed a little longingly at the guitar, though. A part of him broke on the inside, knowing he was the reason Dean could no longer play without feeling like he was being watched. Even if he did, it would probably be unnatural, and unlike the wonderful sight he had been given the privilege to admire for over a month. The following morning, Castiel approached Dean again and promised never to invade his privacy in such a manner again. And indeed, he no longer appeared in Dean’s room – cloaked or uncloaked.

 

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

 

                At least another month of monster hunting flew by when Castiel showed up again in Bobby’s house. It was definitely time for a break from dealing with Heaven’s chaos. For an entire month, memories of Dean singing soothed him when he got agitated. He briefly wondered if he still played every night, and resisted the urge to pop into his room to see because of the promise he had made. His feelings for Dean had not lessened, of course.

                He had just entered the living room when Dean’s came out of the kitchen. His green eyes widened in surprise. “Hey Cas, I wasn’t expecting you.”

                “Hello Dean,” He nodded in his usual greeting. “How’ve you been?” His eyes dart down to Dean’s fingers, where he noticed that the skin around his fingernails was peeling off a bit. A familiar surge of warmth spread throughout him as he realized that Dean was still playing the guitar.

                “I’m fine.” Dean nodded in return. The awkwardness hung in the air, suffocating the two of them. “Okay, you know what? Follow me.” And then he was running up the stairs before Castiel could even question why. He followed Dean anyway (because isn’t that what he would always do?).

                Dean led him into his room and shut the door behind them, before telling Castiel to sit on the bed. The angel was beyond confused at this point, but then the gears in his brain clicked when Dean moved his chair closer to the bed and pulled out his guitar. The two of them said nothing to each other – they both understood each other. Dean was nervous doing this. Both of them knew that by doing this alone, he was hinting that their relationship was about to enter an entirely new phase.

                Dean chanced a glance at Castiel before peeling his eyes away to look at the guitar. He brought his hand up, pressed a spot on the fret board and brought his fingers down, grazing the strings gently.

                _“Love of mine, some day you will die, but I’ll be close behind. I’ll follow you into the dark.”_

                Castiel closed his eyes instinctively, happy to finally be able to hear Dean sing again. He may be able to hold alcohol well, but he was positively sure that he could get drunk on Dean’s voice.

                _“If Heaven and Hell decide that they both are satisfied, illuminate the No’s on their vacancy signs. If there’s no one beside you when your soul embarks, then I’ll follow you into the dark.”_

Castiel only opens his eyes when he realizes the song has ended. Dean was staring right into his eyes. “Cas,” He muttered. His voice was a little husky from the singing, Castiel supposed. “That was for you.”

                “Thank you, Dean.” He smiled broadly at him, feeling his cheeks heat up. Dean considered associating the word ‘adorable’ with that face. “I enjoyed that very much.”

                A wave of comfortable silence washed over the two of them. “Hey Cas,” Dean whispered. “If you ever want to hear me sing, I suppose…you can just tell me, and I’ll sing for you again.”

                Castiel was genuinely touched by his offer. “But why would you do this for me?”

                Dean seemed to laugh a little awkwardly and shrug. “I don’t actually know _why_ , or at least, the most sensible reason,” He gave Castiel a lopsided smile. “I hate chick flick moments, man. So, I’m just going to tell you straight out, okay?” He took in a deep breath. “I’ve got feelings for you.”

                Castiel stared at him for a good few seconds. “Dean –”

                “Don’t ask me why, because I really can’t tell why. I mean, I don’t really know why.”

                “Dean –”

                “It’s probably confusing you because you’re an angel and stuff, and yeah. Hell, it’s even confusing me, man.”

                “Dean –”

                “I mean, I was into girls and _this_ really wasn’t planned out. I should probably mention I’ve kind of been admiring you from afar for, I don’t know, maybe half a year? It’s just, we’ve been through a lot and –”

                “DEAN!”

                “CAS!”

                “I’m going to kiss you now.”

                There was a pause. “Okay.”

                Castiel closed his eyes, leaned forward and pressed his lips against Dean’s. There were all sorts of pleasant emotions surging through his veins right about now. He wasn’t quite sure how to describe the sensation of kissing Dean Winchester, but he would leave that job to Dean Winchester himself, whom is probably talented enough to write a song about it, given enough time.

                The only reason they broke apart so fast was because Dean had been leaning forward in his chair a little too much, and had successfully fallen off, resulting in Castiel laughing. “You know, Cas,” Dean said as he propped himself up on his elbow on the ground. “You’ve got a really nice voice, too.”

                When Castiel had stopped laughing, he pushed himself off the edge of the bed and went to lie on the ground beside Dean. “Will you teach me how to sing, then?”

                “Yeah, that sounds like a good plan.” Dean smiled, leaning down towards him.

                When he kisses Castiel again, the angel can picture dramatic duets in the Impala. Hopefully, Sam will be let in on this secret. Then perhaps, on days off, they could start a band. The thought alone is enough to make Castiel smile into the kiss.

                To Hell with Raphael and his minions, for all he cared, he could smash a guitar on the archangel’s head, because Castiel has Dean Winchester in his arms, and he feels fairly invincible.

 

[END]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Do leave comments. :D
> 
> Song references:  
> 1\. Hey Jude by The Beatles  
> 2\. Can't Help Falling in Love With You by Elvis Presley  
> 3\. I Will Follow You Into the Dark by Death Cab for Cutie


End file.
